Of Mice and Men redux
by Jemala
Summary: The station has just gotten back to normal since the end of the Dominion Wars and the entry of Cardassia into the Federation when a strange visitor from the past appears and re-opens old wounds.
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Melissa Weise

To say that everyone was equally surprised would have been extreme. Everyone would imply all creatures in the galaxy and certainly not everyone cared what was happening in the alpha quadrant. But to say that everyone on Deep Space Nine was surprised probably wouldn't be as extreme. Despite the greatest effort of Raimis, the security chief to keep things as quiet as possible, all it took was one security officer. The young Cardassian had had too much Kanaar, possibly and the unwaveringly professional attention of the delicious Dabo girls required a good story. And boy did he have one to tell. From there, it rippled through Quark's bar and had impacted the whole station before the night was over. Had Odo still been around, Quark may have had enough of a tinge of motivation to keep the Cardassian security officer quiet. But Raimis, Odo's replacement since he had returned to the Founders' homeworld, was too new to have commanded that much of Quark's motivational guilt.

"But how is it possible?" asked Garak, his eyes wide as if he needed to absorb everything.

"We're not really sure," Bashir responded, "I've contacted Starfleet security and intelligence to see if we can get to the bottom of it."

They walked along the hall toward the infirmary, keeping their voices low enough to be considered polite even though everyone already knew what they were talking about. But it was an official matter of security and Bashir liked to stay within protocol as much as possible. Garak made small jingling noises as they walked, his ornamented attire swishing. Bashir kept his eyes averted, watching the dim lights that lined the hall. Suddenly Garak stopped and placed himself in front of Bashir.

"Go ahead and say what you need to say, my dear doctor," He said, frowning.

"What?" Bashir said and grinned.

"Whatever is on your mind. You know I know you well enough to know that you're acting funny around me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bashir said and swallowed his grin, trying to push past the Cardassian.

Garak stood firm, raising his eyebrows and cocking his head to one side.

"All right. All right," Bashir conceded, "It's just that you look so funny in those clothes."

"These are the official clothes of the leader of Cardassia," Garak said, "And are you telling me they amuse you?"

"I guess I'm just not used to it yet."

"It's been a year since Cardassia entered the Federation. You were there when I was named head Councilor. How long does it take a human to get accustomed to something usually, Julian? I mean, I know human beings are slow, but that is ridiculous."

"Testy. Testy," Bashir said, wagging a finger at the Cardassian, "I do believe you are getting as grumpy as a Shapeshifter."

"I've always been testy, Doctor. It's just that you are only now observant enough to notice."

Garak stepped aside and they continued their walk. "Now seriously. You're looking a little frayed, Garak. Are you sure you are okay," Bashir said with sincere concern in his voice.

Garak huffed a little and stuck out his large Cardassian chest, "I'm fine, Doctor. I'm the head of a new government in an old and proud empire. Doesn't that entitle me to look a little tired?"

"All right," Bashir said, "I didn't mean to imply anything."

They walked in silence the rest of the way but, once they arrived, Bashir couldn't help himself, "Did you sew the bells on yourself" he asked rhetorically with a large grin, rounding the corner into the infirmary.

Security Chief Raimis was there to greet them. Tall and lean, one of Raimis' most noticed features was his dark brown mustache, draped off each corner of his mouth and perfectly trimmed. He kept it as a reminder of his Human Latino heritage despite the equalizing Starfleet uniform sported by every humanoid in the universe willing to endure the rigors of the Academy. On occasion, one could find him in one of Quark's holosuites, his mustache vibrating around the mouthpiece of his trumpet as he practiced with perfect replicas of his Mariachi band mates from earth. That was if anyone had ever gone looking for him. Usually no one ever did.

"What's he doing here?" Raimis pointed at Garak and eyed him.

"I supposed I could say the same about you," Bashir said.

"I decided to take over guard duty personally considering the weight of this situation," Raimis said. His voice was slick with an unnecessarily heavy Spanish accent that annoyed Bashir. It was rumored that Raimis had purposely tinkered with his universal translator to filter in the accent and a few Spanish words that sometimes peppered his conversations, "And so, considering the weight of this situation. What is he doing here? Que hace?"

"I was summoned," Garak said, extending his arms diplomatically and smiling widely.

"That and I thought it was appropriate, after all," Bashir said.

"And why would that be?" Raimis asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Bashir said with a sigh and pushed past him.

Garak shrugged and followed the doctor, leaving a frustrated Raimis in their wake. He clenched his fists and stomped after them. "It's still a little difficult to believe," Garak was saying as Bashir pushed back a curtain surrounding a med unit, "I mean this makes him, what number eight?"

"Nine, actually," Bashir said.

Garak had moved forward to inspect the occupant of the bed who lay asleep and motionless, Bashir's precautionary drugs swimming in his blood on the direct orders of Kira. Not only to keep the patient comfortable while he healed from his rather significant crash wounds, but "just in case" as everyone agreed during the officer's meeting when he was found. Despite everything, he looked regal and composed, his eyes fluttering in what Bashir educationally guessed was REM sleep.

"Weyoun nine," Garak muttered, "I think I am beginning to understand how Damar must have felt about him. He just never ends, does he?"

Bashir chuckled a little, "Seems not to," he said.

Garak turned to face the doctor, "How is this possible, anyway? I thought Damar destroyed his cloning facilities and they were never repaired before Weyoun eight's death and his body's 'accidental' incineration when the Klingon troops arrived," Garak smiled to himself, remembering.

"That's true but-" began Bashir.

"But," Raimis cut in, "the treaty that the Federation signed with the Dominion at the end of the war had a clause about turning over all Dominion citizens once they retreated back into their own space."

"So?" Garak said.

"That also meant any bodies of Dominion citizens," Raimis continued.

"Bodies?" Garak asked.

"The Federation had the body of Weyoun six preserved so they could try and study how the Vorta got around cloning copy flaws," Bashir said.

"Weyoun six?" Garak asked. He pressed his lips together, hating to be so confused in any situation. The momentary hint of aggravation passed as he relaxed his face into a smile again and tilted his chin upward, "You'll have to forgive me, but I am not versed in the many lives of Weyoun. Who was Weyoun six and why would the Federation have his preserved body."

"He tried to defect from the Dominion," Raimis stated.

"And he sacrificed his life to save Odo from the Jem H'Dar that Weyoun seven had ordered to destroy their runabout," Bashir offered.

Garak nodded as knowingly as he could. He really didn't care enough about the subject to want anymore details. "And so the Dominion used that body to make another clone, I presume?" he said.

"That's what we are assuming," Bashir said, "I certainly don't have a better theory. Although I can't imagine the risk of posthumous cloning."

"Wake him up," Garak said.

"Absolutely not," Raimis said.

"I have to say that I agree with Raimis," Bashir said.

"He asked for me and I want to know why," Garak said.

"But Commander Kira ordered-" Bashir started.

"I don't care that Commander Kira ordered. Weyoun asked to see the head Councilor of Cardassia and so this is a Cardassian matter, not a Bajoran one. Not a Station one," Garak had pulled himself up to his full height and his voice was commanding in a way which surprised Bashir, "So please wake him up so that I can speak with him."

Bashir made a move toward his hypo spray. Raimis grabbed his arm, "Doctor," he said, scowling.

"Garak has a good point, Raimis. Under Federation Treaties, this conversation could be construed as a Cardassian matter. And besides, I don't think that one wounded Vorta could be that much of a risk. Not with the Chief of Security standing right here, right?" Bashir said and he loaded the hypo spray. Raimis let go of the doctor's arm and Bashir placed the hypo spray against Weyoun's largest visible artery.

Despite the Federation's best research, Vorta physiology was still mostly a mystery. Bashir could intuit the basic anatomy, but the shroud around their cloning procedures made it difficult to define any specific etiologies or physiologies. So, when treating them, it was a lot of guessing. But Bashir could always make guessing look good. Of course, it helped that he was usually right.

Weyoun moaned and shifted ever so slightly. Raimis stiffened. Bashir turned and gave him a look, "Steady, Raimis," he said, holding out an arm between the Security Chief and the Vorta on the bed. After a moment, Weyoun slowly opened his eyes and glanced all around the ceiling, blinking. He swallowed and took a deep breath before moving his gaze to the figures standing around him. As he moved, his wounds became more obvious. The deep purple fresh crust of blood at his right jawline cracked when he swallowed and began to bleed lightly out from under the generous bandaging that covered his entire right ear. He winced and moved a hand to some unseen damage on his abdomen when he sat up. Garak couldn't help but be impressed with how quickly the Vorta composed himself in the bed, his face an inviting, soft expression and his hands folded. "Garak," He said, his satin voice only giving the faintest hint of the pain he must have been enduring since Bashir's drugs had worn off. "How nice to see you again."

"I'm sure," Garak said flatly.

"Thank you for coming," Weyoun said.

"What can I do for you?" Garak asked.

"I need your assistance in a small political matter," Weyoun said.

"And that would be?"

"Well, it is a bit of a story," Weyoun smiled, his blue eyes radiating the innocent expression that Garak assumed Vorta eyes must have been engineered to radiate.

"We have time," Garak was unfazed by innocent expressions. Most Cardassians were.

"Alright then," Weyoun said, bobbing his head in a small series of approving nods, "Well, you see. Once the Dominion put a halt to the war, they decided to reorganize their ranks."

Weyoun paused and looked around, smiling softly. No one made a move to correct his statement about the outcome of the war although the Starfleet officers shifted uncomfortably. He went on, "This reorganization required the elimination of many clones in an attempt to improve their effectiveness. Once activated myself, I had been given they duty of overseeing the Vorta reorganization and, well…" he stopped again, but this time cleared his throat politely before continuing, "Well, it all just seemed so _wasteful_ to me," He said quietly, "and so I started talking to other Vorta about it and we came to a consensus."

Weyoun was now looking at his hands and not the others who waited patiently for the rest of the story. "The Vorta decided that enough was enough and went to the Founders to request that the clones be spared. Now, I don't know if you know very much about Dominion hierarchy," He looked up at them again, a stricken look in his eyes, "but this move was radical. A rebellion. And the Founders did not take it well. In fact, the anger of the Founders was too much for many Vorta to take and they returned to their original posts," He paused again to sigh loudly and bite his lip, "But I persisted. I felt it wasn't right. That there must be a better way. And said as much. I still had a few Vorta behind me and that was enough to cause the Founders to take action. It was decided that the Vorta had become too volatile to control, too much of a liability to the Dominion and so the Jem H'dar were ordered to exterminate us."

"So that another generation of clones could be activated?" Bashir offered.

Weyoun shook his head, "No. Not at all. Our whole race was ordered to be exterminated. Even the cloning seeds and cloning facilities. Everything. Everyone."

"Genocide?" Garak asked under his breath.

"Exactly," Weyoun said.

Garak and the Starfleet officers exchanged glances before Garak said, "And so what do you want me to do about it?"

"The Founders were mostly successful," Weyoun said, "but two small ships with groups of Vorta escaped. I was on one and the other lost contact with us two weeks ago. We haven't been able to find it because our ship had been exceedingly compromised from our escape and run-ins with the Jem Hadar while escaping Dominion space. So, we have decided to offer an alliance with the Cardassians in return for helping us to find the ship."

"Weyoun," Bashir interjected, "It's very possible that you will never regain contact with the second ship. It may, indeed be lost or destroyed."

"It can't be!" Weyoun said firmly.

"Actually it's very poss-" Garak began.

"No. It's not." Weyoun said, "We have to find that ship. It has the only surviving females."

The group fell silent.

Garak broke the silence, "So what exactly would you even have to offer Cardassia in such as alliance," He said, "I mean, it sounds like we would have to expend all sorts of resources looking for that ship. But what would you give us in return. You have nothing."

"Well, our technology for one thing-" Weyoun said.

"And Cardassians have no technology?" Garak said, his voice tinged in sarcasm.

"You forget Vorta are excellent diplomats," Weyoun said brightly.

"So?" Garak said.

"We are aware of the new Cardassian government's inner turmoil," Weyoun said, "We could help with that. I am willing to offer my services personally on your behalf within your government."

"I have no idea what you are talking about!" Garak shouted.

Raimis and Bashir turned and stared at him. "Come now, Councilor," Weyoun said, "You don't have to play innocent with me. I know about your half-human heir and the difficulties he is causing for you on the Cardassian High Council."

Garak opened his mouth without any consciousness of it. His eyes suddenly seemed sunken and he twisted his fists around the fine fabric of his robes. "How could you possibly-?" he said.

"You also seem to forget that, although I may be a clone of a defective Weyoun. I am still a Weyoun," he said with a slowly deepening and satisfied smile as he leaned back against the pillows.


	2. Chapter 2

"So Garak and Weyoun act like they know each other." Raimis said to Bashir after Garak had left for his temporary quarters and Weyoun was given another hypo spray to place him in a healing sleep.

"They do." Bashir said, his back turned to Raimis as he busied himself with some bottles on the counter of the infirmary.

"How? When did they meet?" asked Raimis.

"Don't you remember?" Bashir said, "How could you forget? Garak was the one who killed Weyoun eight in the last battle. It was a source of many controversial conversations on the station for months afterwards."

"How could I remember?" Raimis muttered, "I wasn't here."

Before Bashir could respond, Raimis had already left the infirmary, the door swishing behind him. A moment later, a young security officer reported to Bashir that he had arrived for guard duty. Bashir waved him into Weyoun's room where he took up his post dutifully. Bashir placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward, sighing.

"Do you think Weyoun is telling the truth?" Kira asked. She balanced a hot mug of tea against her leg which was thrown casually up on her desk. But she was frowning.

"About what?" Bashir asked.

"About the Cardassian government."

"I assume there must be some truth to it. Garak certainly reacted strongly to it."

She took her leg down and placed the untouched mug on the desk and got up and began pacing. "I was afraid of this."

"I'm not sure I follow." Bashir remained sitting and watched her pace, only his eyes moving to track her.

"A few months after the Cardassians entered the Federation, there were rumors. Rumors that Garak had lost credibility. I defended him." She stopped pacing and leaned forward, staring Bashir in the eye, "I did. Me. Of everyone. I defended Garak."

"Well you had no reason to suspect that he had done anything wrong." Bashir felt obliged to try to make her feel better. He hated it when she eyed him like that.

"No reason to suspect him?" her pitch went up higher as she ticked off the reasons on her fingers, "He's a known member of the Obsidion Order. He was outcast by his own people. He's a known spy. He's an admitted chronic liar-"

Bashir stopped her before she could go on to list Garak's known unsavory past, "But he also helped us to win the Dominion War and cleaned up Cardassia after Gul Dukat made such a mess of it. He got so far as to get Cardassia accepted into the Federation – something none of us thought would happen in our lifetimes. Except maybe for Dax."

"Yes, but perhaps that was a grave mistake. Allowing the Cardassians into the Federation. Maybe they aren't ready. And if Garak does have this half human heir – that could tumble all the progress he has made. Cardassians are very protective of who they allow into their families. And I don't think human beings make the cut into Cardassian royalty."

Suddenly, she wheeled on Bashir, making him jump, "Did he mention anything to you about a human heir? You and he were very close."

"Garak wasn't exactly forthcoming about his personal life, Kira." Bashir said. "Cardassian art and literature, tailoring and fashion, even Quark's bartending habits tended to come before anything about his personal life."

Kira nodded as Bashir went on, "And besides, it has been a few years since our regular lunches. I haven't exactly kept in contact. This could have happened since the Dominion War ended and Garak left for his homeworld."

"But Weyoun said it was a half human heir. I don't think Garak met a human girl on Cardassia. It makes more sense that he met her here on the station, doesn't it?'

"I suppose."

"That settles it, then." Kira said, slapping the palm of her hand down on the desk, "I want all the station's cameras analyzed for the entire time that Garak lived on the station and every human female he interacted with questioned."

"But that was seven years. Anything could have happened to those women in seven years."

"I guess we are going to find out."

The baby was crying. His cries echoed throughout the cavernous hallways of the Cardassian palace. She tried to shush him but nothing worked. Her heart pumped so strongly with nervous blood that she could feel surging down her arms and up her neck. She swallowed, "Quiet, baby." She said.

She had been the fourth female entrusted with Thalen since he was born and his mother went into the coma from the loss of blood and infection. The other three had disappeared suddenly, one after another, until she was promoted to the priceless position.

Nala had never taken care of an infant before and this one never seemed to stop making noise. Noise that pierced the night darkness when everyone was sleeping and she lay in her quarters, her eyes open and staring at the ceiling, her head hurting and her heart pumping. Noise while he ate, slurping and moaning at his bottle. Noise during the day, causing the guards and the councilors to stare and grunt. She kept him wrapped, just as she was told and called him her own just as she was instructed. And now she wondered, her head and muscles swooning from lack of sleep, when she too might disappear. She almost wished it would happen sooner rather than later.

"Six thousand seven hundred and eighty two." Bashir said, slapping the report down on Kira's desk, "That's how many females Garak interacted with on his time in the station."

Kira looked up. She looked mildly annoyed. "But I only wanted human females, Julian. Not every single female."

Bashir wasn't listening, "That's pretty amazing when you come down to it. Over six thousand females. I had no idea Garak talked to that many people. He seemed like such a loner."

"Julian!"

Bashir looked up. "Yes Commander."

"Human females, Julian, human."

"Ah yes. Two thousand eleven. Human females that is."

Kira nodded, unwilling to admit defeat, "How many have you and Raimis contacted?"

"All of them, in one way or another. Most of them were Starfleet and reassigned after the end of the war. Some of them replied already and told me that they barely remembered him. Three hundred twenty two are deceased and four hundred twenty-two are missing."

"Missing?"

"Many people went missing after and during the war. Some went AWOL, some were kept as prisoners and The Federation is still trying to extrapolate them from Dominion Territories and some are just plain missing."

Kira walked around her desk and leaned on the front of it, "I had no idea that many went missing."

"I could just ask Garak. He is still on the station. In fact, we're having lunch together today." Bashir said.

"Do you think he would tell you?"

"No."

"Then why ask?"

Bashir shrugged, "I dunno. Easier than trying to track down over six thousand women for the next few hours."

Kira stared at him. He attempted to smile but it collapsed into a smirk so he took back the report from her desk and turned to leave.

It has been a long time since Bashir had eaten lunch with his Cardassian friend and he was surprised to find that they seemed to pick up right where they left off. Over Betazoid Salads and Vulcan pudding, they continued their teasingly revealing conversation that had lasted for almost a decade but never really went anywhere.

"There reaches a point where sedation becomes just another form of restraint and now is that point," Bashir said, gesturing with his fork.

"And what is the problem with keeping him sedated?" Garak asked.

"My medical oath. Among other things, I have sworn to use only the least restrictive restraints or none at all unless completely necessary."

"Ah, human ethics. How they make your lives miserable." Garak said with a crooked smile and a stab at his greens.

Bashir went on, ignoring the comment, "I keep trying to find a reason why it would be necessary to keep him under. But I can't. His wounds are healed and he is fine."

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but isn't it a safety measure? At least, I am sure that your Security Chief would say so."

"But Weyoun isn't a threat to anyone. Vorta never use weapons and he's too small to assault anyone. As long as he is kept under supervision, he's fine," Bashir said, "Completely…frustratingly…fine."

They fell into silence for the moment as Bashir preoccupied himself with chasing the slippery pudding around his bowl. After a while, he could feel Garak's gaze on him so he looked up. Garak was squinting and nodding.

"What?" Bashir exclaimed, remembering how much he disliked that narcissistic Cardassian gaze.

"You hate him."

"What?" Bashir said, "Hate who?"

"Weyoun," Garak said, "You hate him. You hate what he represents and what he is."

"That's ridiculous," Bashir protested.

Garak went on, a soft smile spreading and his pitch getting higher. He was excited to have found a vice in his near-perfect genetically altered human companion, "You probably even blame him for everyone who died."

"Garak-" Bashir's voice was taking on a warning tone now.

"Every starship that was destroyed. Every civilian who was murdered. You look at Weyoun's face and blame him. He was the face of the Dominion to you and everyone on this station."

"That's ludicrous, Garak. I don't harbor revenge-like feelings. I'm not an Andorian or a Klingon. I'm a Starfleet Officer."

"You probably even blame him for Jadzia." Garak said but even he realized he had gone too far and stopped.

Bashir scowled at the Cardassian for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists. He forced his voice not to quaver as he spoke, "I don't hate people, Garak. I'm a doctor. I treat everyone unbiased. I've treated Vorta before. I've even treated Jem H'dar."

"But not a Weyoun." Garak offered softly.

"What does it matter?" Bashir's voice bordered on a shout, "A patient is a patient. I treat everyone the same."

"Then why can't you take him out from under sedation?" Garak asked.

"Maybe I should," Bashir said, "And then I can ask him about your half human heir."

Garak's eyes began to water but his face was frozen in a mask of arrogance. "You could," he said.

"But maybe you would rather tell me yourself," Bashir said.

"I doubt it."

"Was it some Dabo Girl? Some young and naïve Starfleet Officer? How did she even survive the birth? Cardassian-human births are notoriously risky for serious hemorrhage."

Garak squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. It took only a moment for him to compose himself again. He grabbed his plates, "I think we are done here." He said, rising to leave, "It has been as tantalizing as ever, Doctor. We should do this again sometime."

Bashir grabbed Garak's wrist, "Kira's having me and Raimis search the galaxy for this girl, Garak. This is serious. It impacts you, me, the Federation and the Cardassian Empire. Why don't you just come clean?"

"Because there is no heir, Doctor. Can't you see that the Vorta made it up? Made up the whole story. Probably to drive a wedge between us. Or perhaps even to try to shake the Cardassian Empire from the Federation. Seems he did a good job."

"I know there's a baby." Bashir said.

"You do?" Garak asked, "Then you know more than I do. Let me know where you are keeping him when you find him, Doctor. I'd love to know. But until then, I must see to some important matters of the Empire."

"Que tonto!" Exclaimed Raimis as he sorted through yet another pile of reports, "How can she expect us to find one girl in this flock of women that arrogant Cardassian talked to while he was on the station."

Bashir was only half-listening as he scrolled down the files. He smiled bemusedly at the many women he remembered – some of them fondly. "Ah Tess," He said, touching the vid screen, "It's been too many years. And I see you have gotten into the medical academy and are just about ready to graduate. How wonderful."

He looked up at Raimis, "I really should write to her."

"Wonderful." Raimis said, curling his upper lip down over his lower lip creating an angry mustached look, "I'm so glad you find this task so rewarding. I find it a waste of time."

Bashir sat upright, "A waste of time?" he asked, "Aren't you supposed to be the security chief?"

"Yes," Raimis said, "A security chief who has better things to do than stroll down memory lane with you."

"Don't you understand what this type of Cardassian strife in the Empire would mean? It could damage the entire Federation Treaty. It could disregulate this entire quadrant."

"I think you place far too much importance on this Cardassian government," Raimis said, "The Cardassians have always been 'disregulated'," He made sarcastic quotation marks with his fingers in the air, "in one way or another for as long as I can remember. Or care to remember. So what."

"But now is not like before," Bashir said, "The Federation is recovering from a serious war and this quadrant is already weakened. Alliances have been strained and need to be rebuilt. If the Cardassian Empire were to go into conflict from within, it could jeopardize all the treaties. Everyone would be rushing around to make new alliances and that could make the whole system topple."

Raimis was looking at Bashir pensively, stroking his mustache. "So let's say you are right. I am not saying you are, but let's pretend I believe you."

Bashir frowned as Raimis went on, "How could finding this girl help that situation? I mean, if Garak does have a half-human heir, how could finding its mother or even it make any difference at all?"

"Perhaps because the Federation understands the power of information." Came a familiar Cardassian voice from behind them.

Bashir and Raimis turned to see Garak and Weyoun enter the Security Office. Weyoun stepped lightly over the piles of reports, stopping to pick one up from the desk and stare at it squinting, "Interesting," he mumbled.

"What are you doing here?" Bashir asked Garak, "And what are you doing with him."

"I am taking Weyoun under my supervision back to Cardassia." Garak said, "Taking him off your hands, so to speak."

Weyoun didn't respond to anyone, but lifted his gaze to take in the entire group.

"I doubt the Commander will approve of that. You are under investigation, Garak. You aren't exactly at liberty to take Weyoun back to Cardassia." Bashir said.

"You aren't exactly at liberty to do much of anything." Raimis added.

"That's what I figured," Garak said, stooping to pick up a stack of reports, he sorted through them smiling while he continued, "Which is why I am here to ask you to come with me. For my own protection, of course."

"You want us to come with you?" Bashir said, "To do what?"

"Basically to get the Federation off my back." Garak said.

"I don't think so." Bashir said.

Garak looked up and let the reports drop to the floor. He took a step forward and cocked his head to one side, "I am not sure you understand me, Doctor." He said, "We either do this that way or I walk off this Station without the Commander's permission and start an intergalactic conflict."

Weyoun had an eyebrow raised and a half smile on his face as he watched the exchange.

"I don't feel like being a part of one of you whims, Garak," Bashir said firmly, "And especially don't appreciate being a pawn."

"Don't think of it that way," Garak said with a wave of his hand, "My dear Doctor, when have I ever steered you wrong…in the end. Sure. Sure. Things may be bumpy in the middle, but they always work out by the time we finish."

Bashir shook his head and Garak went on, "Come with me one more time," he said, "One more adventure."

"I don't think it is a good idea-" Bashir started.

"I know it isn't a good idea." Raimis interrupted.

"What other choice do you have?" Weyoun had moved closer to the group and so all eyes turned to him as he continued, "After all, aren't your orders to find the girl?" He motioned to the reports scattered across the room, "Well, I am pretty sure that whatever we are going to do, you will get to know where she is. And besides," he stepped closer to Bashir and put his arms out innocently, "Don't your ethics demand that you do what is necessary to avoid an intergalactic conflict? We all know what those look like," he shook his head feigning sadness, "Not pretty."

"I can't believe you got her to agree to this," Raimis said, heaving his luggage into the back section of the ship.

"Kira and I have a lot of history. She trusts me. Especially in matters involving Garak," Bashir said.

"I can't believe anyone would trust anything to do with Garak," Raimis said.

Bashir chuckled.

"I am going to go and leave my final orders with my security guards," Raimis said, "I will be back in a moment."

"Whatever you need to do." Bashir said, without looking up from his packing.

When he did look up again a few moments later, Bashir saw Weyoun framed in the doorway, watching him. "How long have you been there?" asked Bashir. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to keep his voice steady when addressing the Vorta.

"Just a few moments," Weyoun said, "I didn't want to startle you so I figured I would wait until you were finished."

Bashir stood, "Well, I am finished. You can have the place to yourself."

He stepped forward and the Vorta sidestepped, making room for him to leave through the small doorway.

"I can't imagine what you would have for luggage anyway." Bashir said, motioning to the carry on case that the Vorta was holding.

"Not mine," Weyoun said, "I told Garak I would put it in the ship for him."

"So you are his personal assistant now?" Bashir could hear the sarcasm creep into his voice.

Weyoun blinked once and let his gaze drift up to the ceiling of the small ship, "I suppose that's a word you could use," he said looking back at Bashir, "Whatever it takes to save my species."

"That's a rather dramatic way to put it," Bashir said.

"Dramatic?" Weyoun said, "I wouldn't say so. Just honest. The Founders have incinerated whatever clones and cloning facilities were left when our ships escaped. My companions died in our crash when the navigation system malfunctioned and other than the second ship, I am the only Vorta I know of who is alive."

"I hadn't thought about it that way," Bashir said. He rubbed the toe of his boot against the carpeting on the ship's floor."

"I didn't expect you to," Weyoun said.

There was a pause.

"You could just clone yourself," Bashir said.

Weyoun gave a small snort and smiled, "It takes more than just me to clone myself," he said, "But I don't expect you to understand that, either."

"I actually understand quite a bit about cloning," Bashir said, "You might be surprised."

"Oh I am sure you understand enough," Weyoun said, "The Federation had more than enough Vorta specimens to research during the war."

"There was more than enough of every type of specimens for all sides to study during the war," Bashir said, his jaw tight.

"You sound like you blame me for that," Weyoun said.

"Why shouldn't I?" Bashir said, "You were one of the architects of the war."

"'Architect'? What an interesting way to put it."

"Just honest." Bashir said.

"Not really," Weyoun disagreed, "The Founders were the architects. I only did what they told me to do."

"You can't say that you didn't have some input into the design, "Bashir said.

"The Weyouns always had input," Weyoun said, "That was our station. The Founders trusted us. But it wasn't like we controlled whether or not there was a war, just how the Dominion went about it. And Weyouns always tried to minimize the losses. That is our training. We're diplomats, not warlords."

"I remember your diplomacy," Bashir said, his voice low.

Weyoun squinted, "You really hold a very low opinion of me, don't you Doctor?" he said.

"I don't hold a high one."

"That's too bad."

"Is it?" Bashir asked, "I was under the impression it really didn't matter as long as I 'kept the Federation off your backs'."

Weyoun nodded, "I can see there is no convincing you of my desire to alliance," he said.

"I see your desire for alliance," Bashir responded, "I see how it helps you. What I question is how it helps us."


	3. Chapter 3

DS9 Chapter 3

Raimis found Garak highly annoying. The Cardassian's distorted sense of machismo gave the very word a bad name. Oh sure, Cardassians were masculine and barrel-chested but as far as Raimis was concerned, Cardassians were nothing more than whining women, plotting and scheming behind the scenes. They might as well be making tamales and thinking of ways to undermine the rest of the intergalactic community. The power they wielded was blunt but sophomoric and it irritated him.

Garak, in particular was irritating. It didn't take long in the cramped quarters of the runabout for even his voice to get irritating. It whined and trebled in all the wrong places. It sliced through Raimis' brain and was most definitely giving him a headache.

At least the Vorta was quiet, his hands folded neatly in his lap, his impossibly violet eyes primly gazing around at the group. Raimis knew that he was listening. And observing. The Vorta was always soaking up everything and Raimis knew this. But at least Weyoun knew when to shut up. Garak prattled on about nothing. And Bashir not only didn't seem to mind, he seemed to encourage the ridiculous discussion that everyone present knew was mostly filled with lies. Garak was one Cardassian who could paint a masterpiece of lies. He had in his palette so many shades of deceit Ramis wondered if even he began to believe some of the ones that most closely resembled the truth.

"And so then the Andorian General told me that I was most welcome on his ship at any time and they were grateful for my help. Only I can't remember his name and so whenever I contact their embassy I just try to throw out as many honorifics as I possibly can in an attempt to contact him," Garak finished.

Raimis hadn't been listening and didn't really care. Everything Garak said seemed to be for pure inflation these days. Even Bashir was nodding abstractly at this point. His feet were on the console of the runabout and he was reading from two pads at once, cross-analyzing them or something. Raimis never knew what that man was doing. It always seemed like several things at once.

"Doctor, are you even listening to me?" Garak said suddenly.

"What?" Bashir asked, "Oh, yes. The Andorian General. Isn't his name Larcan? At least I think that's what you told me before."

"Of course," Garak said nodding, "Larcan. Don't know why that name doesn't even stick."

"What are you reading?" Raimis asked Bashir hoping to change the subject and maybe shut the Cardassian up for a few minutes.

"I'm just trying to eliminate some more women from the list," Bashir said and then referenced to Garak, "Of course it would be much easier if you would help me."

Garak chuckled. "In your search for the mythical mother of my mythical child?" he asked, "I don't think I could be much help. I'm not that creative."

Raimis groaned.

"Do you disagree, Chief?" asked Garak.

"Your reputation for fiction precedes you, Head Councilor, " Raimis said.

"I suppose it has."

The console began to beep angrily, making all of them junp. "What's that?" asked Weyoun.

"A Jem H'dar ship," Bashir answered with a level of surprise.

"In this section?" Raimis asked, touching several buttons on the screen in front of him, "I thought they don't come out this far anymore."

"Apparently you thought wrong," Garak said.

"It's not against the treaty. Not officially anyway," Bashir said, "Perhaps they have a permit."

"It's not like a Jem H'Dar Battleship is going to be doing much commerce, Julian," Garak said, "And that's the only reason the Dominion would request a permit for this sector."

Another siren began to ring and Weyoun sat forward, "Is that noise what I think it is?" he asked.

"Yup," Bashir said, "They are targeting their weapons on us."

Raimis and Bashir's fingers were flying across the panels. Bashir checked a third screen and moaned.

"What?" asked Garak.

"Our shields are completely disabled," he said.

"How did that happen? They were fine in the pre-flight," Raimis said.

"I don't know. Some sort of dampening field?" Bashir guessed.

"Do you have any ideas?" Garak asked of Weyoun who looked more pale than usual and was leaning forward, his eyebrows furrowed.

"The Dominion has weapons the Vorta aren't privy to anymore. Since we left. I – I don't know."

"What I do know is that we are sitting ducks out here. And no match for a runabout,," Bashir said.

""And they are not responding to any hails," Raimis said.

"Why even bother?" Garak said, "They never respond to hails.

"Weapons loading," Bashir said, "Brace for impact."


	4. Chapter 4

In a flash of light, they were being transported.

Julian had never had any problems with transporters. Often doctors found them unnerving and there was even some fanatic regressive movement in some medical schools of thought to have them banned entirely. The most famous proponent of this idea was Dr. McCoy, an avowed non-tran who famously required that he be shuttled from one ship to another in his older years rather than risk the miniscule possibility that his "molecules become scrambled in them damned contraptions". "I've lived too long to die that way," he said and, possibly because he was right and possibly because he was just too cantankerous, no one argued with him about it.

But even among more moderate people, doctors tended to become more nervous about transporters than the average population. This was probably due to the extensive semester-long course on treating transporter accidents that med students were required to take at Starfleet Academy with Dr. Chu. Dr. Chu was notorious for his gruesome holographic presentations and came to be known behind his back as Dr. "Spew" for the gastro-gymnastics of the students leaving his classroom. His particular brand of transporter accident victims were usually pretty grisly. In fact, the idea of treating these victims was less true than the idea of making sure they were really and truly a dead lump of pulsating and oozing flesh.

But Julian was never known to be a doctor who had a problem with transporters. Many speculated that this could be due to his additional strength of mind and body from his genetic enhancements as a child. More likely was the fact that he skipped most of Dr. Chu's lecture classes in favor of sessions of holosuite darts with his buddies at the academy earning him his only C+. Dr. Chu only awarded him even this grade because of Julian's spectacular design of a transporter holo-program combining the DNA of a Klingon, a Ferengi, and a purely energetic life form called a Manga found only in the Centauri 8 Star System which Dr. Chu was delighted to use horrifying a whole new generation of med students.

Despite all this, in this moment, Julian was scared. First, he was scared that he had time to be scared. Transporters should be so briefly that those using them shouldn't have time to consciously realize what is going on before they are rematerialized.

Second, he was scared because this could only mean that he was being transported using a long-range transporter. When Julian first heard about the Dominion's long range transporters, he was curious at best. The idea of moving living material across so much space defied much of his own research and logic and he wanted to know how the Dominion could perform such a feat without damaging the creatures they were transporting. Then, he realized that the Dominion really cared little about preserving living tissue because often they could just re-clone anything that didn't come out right. This didn't bode well for someone like Julian or anyone who didn't exactly save his genetic material anywhere regularly so that he could be re-made "just in case" like Vortas did.

Finally, Julian was scared because he was scared. Which he rarely was. Which meant this was probably a really bad situation.

Kidtown

Intro to Psych


End file.
